Moments in the life of an Elleth
by Starstruck Whisperings
Summary: Drabbles. Just moments of her life, written when I have writer's block. Will probably include more characters.
1. Chapter 1

A/N- Well, these are just some plot-less drabbles for when I have writers block (which, unfortunately is quite often), if you like that sort of thing. It might make some of the things make sense. Oh, and the rating is on a case-by-case basis, but I will warn you beforehand

* * *

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. All 3 are in the center of the target.

My sister and I are spending the day together. I am practicing archery, and she is throwing knives. I know how to throw knives, too, I just am not nearly as good at it as she is. But then again, she isn't as good at archery as I am. She goes to retrieve her knives.

I take up my bow. I fire off a half a dozen arrows. The six fill the small circle of the bullseye, tightly packed. I retrieve the arrows. My sister is clearly impressed. Noting her expression, I reply

"You think thats good? Rosechilan can split an arrow down the center. And the Prince, he can split 10. It leaves this mass of curling splinters, it's actually really cool."

I take up my bow again, and I can hear her knives embedding into the straw that fills the target. I release an arrow. And at the same time I feel a scratch on my face. I turn around, faster than a human eye could follow, unsheathe my twin knives and parry a strike aimed for my head.

Rosechilan sheathes her knives. My sister is clearly awed, not used to what Cúthalion training is like. While we heard stories when we were children, they were so fantastic we never really believed them. And she was so busy when she became a solider, she had never been able to see one of my training sessions. The 2nd arrow that split my own mere seconds after it hit the target, or my fast reaction, was all new to her.

"You were talking about me?"

* * *

Yes, I am working on "Comforting Trees," if you read the preview.(part of another story) I'm just not sure how to end it...  
And does she seem Mary Sue-ish? She never actually has a relationship with anyone, but still...  
If you like this, read my other stories!


	2. Number 2

A/N: *sigh* I was trying to work on 'Never Again', but didn't work out so well, and I ended up with this.

Oh, and in this fic, she is equivalent to 7 human years.

* * *

I was slumped over Janrean's shoulder, where he was carrying me I knew not. He had told me there was something I should see, and then promptly picked me up and moved me like a sack of potatoes. Besides the awkward position, I was excited. Muindor always had the most amazing things to show me, from a newly hatched bird's nest or his new armor, or tool. Even if he wasn't around much, he always took me on an adventure of our own.

I could smell where we were going before I saw it. The stables.

While most find the smell of horse hair unpleasant, Muindor and I enjoyed it. He began to shift, but as soon as he released his grip slightly – and before he had a chance to put me down – I back-flipped off where I was perched. He smiled proudly, and ruffled my hair before leading me into the stable.

He directed me to his horses box. As he opened the door, I became worried. Horses only lay down when they were injured, and she was resting in the straw. I looked to Muindor for reassurance, and he was smiling with elation I rarely saw from him. I crept to the mare's front. When I reached her head, I saw a young foal curled up by her side. While the mother was white as my naneth's fine pearls, the foal was black. It was so beautiful, dark and shimmery as water at night. Together they looked out of a fairly tale, twilight and daybreak curled up together.

When the foal saw me, an amazing thing happened. It stood up on wobbly legs, and began to walk towards me. Something in my mind told me those were the horse's first steps. Slowly, it reached me. It nuzzled its head into the crook of my arm.

I looked towards Muindor, my awe expressed on my face.

"She is yours, nethig."

I looked to the filly. "Dûhîtha" I whispered. Nightmist.

* * *

Elvish Translations:

Muindor – Brother

Naneth – Mother

Nethig – Little Sister


End file.
